


Birdwatchers

by Hypatia_66



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Captivity, Escape, Gen, THRUSH
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 18:06:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14720993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hypatia_66/pseuds/Hypatia_66
Summary: A Thrush guard, catching them unawares, finds Napoleon’s and Illya’s ID descriptions so inaccurate that he is baffled.





	Birdwatchers

**Birdwatchers**

Their fortuitously successful captor was as surprised as they were and was now rummaging in his breast pocket for reassuring evidence about the men he had before him. He appeared to be on his own in the house, too – a rather humiliating situation for the two men, caught like rookies, though it offered fairly simple possibilities for escape.

The dog-eared data cards in his pocket contained somewhat out-of-date photographs but were pretty firm about several visible characteristics: height and weight, hair and eye colour. Unfortunately, significant elements were inaccurate so, for a Thrush goon of normal Thrush-goon intelligence, it was a little problematic.

The two men in front of him sat impassively watching his expression as he compared first one of them with his card, and then the other.

“Stand up, take your shoes off,” he said to the man with blond hair. “Stand here.” The blond stood up against the chart and waited for the goon to read off his height. “Five eight,” he intoned, and looked again at the chart, “barely,” and he looked at the card again. “Five ten and a half. Sit down.” The blond sat down. “You’re too small,” the goon said, accusingly.

The blond’s companion said quietly out of the side of his mouth, “Small but perfectly formed,” which earned him a certain look from the accurately-described blue eyes.

“And if you’re 160 pounds I’m a daisy. _You_ ,” the idiot now addressed the dark man with the hazel eyes, “c’mere. Shoes off.” And he measured his height against the wall chart. “Five nine.” He looked accusingly at him too, and said angrily, “You’re too short as well. You should be six foot. You guys not eating properly or sump’n?”

Napoleon sat down gracefully and, crossing one leg over the other, he leaned back and smiled. “Could it be that you have the wrong guys?” he enquired.

“Nope. I caught you in the act.”

“What act?” asked the blond.

“Observing.”

“It’s what human beings do. So what?”

“So, you were observing the wrong thing. That means trouble.”

“But as we’re the wrong guys, that could mean trouble for _you_.”

A deep crease appeared in the goon’s brow as he thought about this. “Names?” he said, a little belatedly (and pointlessly).

“Ian Kennedy,” said the blond.

“Norbert Singleton,” said the other. “What’s yours?”

“Ginger,” said their captor unthinkingly and to some extent unnecessarily – his hair would win a competition with any copper kettle. “So, you’re _not_ Ill… whatever, or Napoleon Solo?”

“I guess not,” said the dark one. “Can we go now? No hard feelings, of course.”

“I guess. But you’ll have to wait – I have to talk to my boss first. He’s not here.”

“Better not, don’t you think? Won’t he bawl you out for making a mistake?”

Ginger thought about that. Thinking wasn’t his strong suit and it showed. “Gee, guys, I don’t know.”

“We do. We’ve known bosses like that – best to keep it quiet.”

At this point, some spark of intelligence crossed a synapse in Ginger’s brain and sent a message to his tongue. “Just a minute,“ he said. “What _were_ you doing, observing us like that?”

“Oh, we weren’t,” said the blond. “We were birdwatching.”

“Oh… _Bird_ watching? What kind of activity is that for grown men – it’s for kids, ain’t it? What kind of birds?”

“Birds of the _Turdinae_ family.”

Ginger giggled, “You’re kidding! That sounds rude.”

“Well, of course, these _are_ quite rude birds – known for spreading it around everywhere and that’s why they have that name.”

“Gee. Wait till I tell the guys,” and still chuckling to himself, he ushered them out. “Can you find your way?” he said politely, betraying a long-lost but proper upbringing.

“Sure, don’t worry about us,” said Napoleon and he and Illya set off back to their car, at a casual walking pace until they rounded a bend in the drive – then they ran.

The car was where they had left it and after checking it for untoward devices Illya took the wheel and set off fast, spraying gravel as he did so. “We had undeserved luck there, Napoleon. How long before his cleverer colleagues work out who we are?” he said.

“Ten minutes max, I’d say. What’s the best speed you can get out of this baby?”

“Try me. Hold tight,” said Illya blissfully.

**ooo0000ooo**

**Author's Note:**

> LJ Short Affair challenge. Prompts: wheel, trouble, copper
> 
> Turdinae: Do I really have to explain? Order: Passeriformes. Family: Muscicapidae. Subfamily: Turdinae (Thrushes)


End file.
